Rock Chick Renegade
Page 65
Oh crap.
Vance had Nick’s approval. I knew that but I’d been trying to ignore it. I also knew that he worried about me a lot and I’d been trying to ignore that too.
What I didn’t need to know was that Vance made him feel like I was safe.
“Nick, his Harley won’t be out there anymore,” I told him softly.
Nick didn’t even try to hide the disappointment on his face. I tried to ignore that too.
I failed.
“The way you two are tonight, was worried about that,” Nick said.
I took a breath and forged ahead. “I won’t be home tonight, can you feed Boo in the morning?”
Nick stared at me a beat, clearly confused at this contradictory information. I didn’t enlighten him.
Then he said, “I hope you know what you’re doin’, Jules.”
“I do,” I replied with fake brightness. “Don’t I always?”
“Yeah,” he said but he shook his head, “you always know what you’re doin’. Just can’t say you’ve always done the right thing.”
“Nick –”
“It may almost always be the right thing for others but it usually wasn’t the right thing for you,” he told me. “Life ain’t worth livin’, Jules, if you don’t take a few risks and I’m not talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save the world. I’m talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save yourself.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that and I didn’t have a chance to find anything to say. Vance walked up beside us approaching me for the first time that evening (although, I’d seen him talking several times with Nick).
“Time to go,” he said, eyes on me and the look in them sent a shiver up my spine and not in the usual good way.
I nodded.
His eyes cut to Nick and his hand came out. “‘Night, Nick,” he said.
“Vance,” Nick shook his hand and then they broke off, “you two enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Then Nick went out the door.
“I’ll get your jacket,” Vance said and peeled off.
While he was gone I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, mentally prepared for what was to come and in the middle of that I caught Indy’s eye.
She was standing next to Lee; he had his arm around her shoulders and was talking to Eddie. Indy had her arm around his waist and she was looking at me. She put her head to his chest and smiled encouragingly.
Vance came up, my backpack over one of his shoulders, my jacket over his arm.
“Thanks everybody!” I yelled, they turned, called their goodnights and happy birthdays.
I waved with pretend happiness. I even blew a few kisses (which was not good for a head-crackin’ mamma jamma to do but for once I was amongst friends) and then we were gone.
Chapter Sixteen
You Wanna Talk Now?
We took Sixth Avenue west to I-70, Vance driving fast. Me pressed against him from crotch to shoulders (dress stretched to the max); arms tight around his waist; backpack on my back; Harley roaring between my legs; my hair flying behind me; my legs freezing in the cold. I alternately pressed my cheek into his shoulder or gazed over it, not quite sad, scared or cold enough not to enjoy the ride.
We went into the foothills, passed the end of the city lights, strip malls and suburbs where the skies became a bit clearer and you could see the stars a whole lot better.
He exited I-70 and I memorized our route just because, letting myself pretend that I might take it again one day. It was major thoroughfare left to minor thoroughfare. Minor thoroughfare right to a one lane road. One lane road left to a dirt road. I was guessing we were somewhere between Golden and Evergreen. What I did know was that we were in the middle of nowhere.
Finally he pulled off into a gravel lane and his headlight flashed on a small, one-story log cabin surrounded by pine trees except for a clearing to the north where there was a major outbuilding.
In the drive there was an oldish Ford pickup truck, not ancient but it had at least ten years on it. It was blue, it was dusty and you could tell it was well-used. Next to that was a horse trailer.
Vance stopped the bike, cut the light, I got off and pulled down my skirt. So did he (without the skirt part). We did the whole backpack whirl thing again and then he grabbed my hand and walked me to the house. All this was done in silence.
I was finding it hard to deal with silence. “Do you have horses?” I asked.
“One. Stable two for my neighbors in exchange for them feeding, watering and exercising mine when I’m in town which is most of the time,” he replied in a way that didn’t invite further questions.
He walked right up to the house hand wrapped around mine and opened the unlocked door.
“You don’t lock your house?” I asked, shocked. Vance, security expert, didn’t lock his own house. He was in the middle of nowhere but still.
“Got nothin’ to steal,” he said.
We walked in and he flipped on a light and with one look around I realized he was right. He indeed had nothing to steal.
He dropped my hand, closed the door and walked through the house, leaving me at the door and disappearing down a dark hall. Then a light came on from there.
I looked around more, came forward and took my blazer off, wrapping it around the back of a chair.
It could be cute, his cabin, definitely cozy. The walls were made of well-sealed logs. The floors were wood with some rugs thrown over them, mostly multi-colored and braided, not tatty but not designer-cabin-chic either. The front room was one biggish room incorporating the dining room, living room and kitchen. There was a big stone hearth on the side wall of the living room, a smaller one on the opposite side, next to the dining table.
To the right was the living room. He had a couch, over it thrown a colorful Native American blanket. A coffee table in front, cluttered with books, some opened and placed face down, some stacked even on the floor and under the table. A floor lamp made of a twisted branch was beside the couch, buffalos dancing across the shade. The back of a beat up leather armchair faced the dining room/kitchen area.
And that was it. No television, no stereo, no pictures, nothing.
The kitchen was a u-shape, back and side walls had top and bottom cabinets, a counter delineating it from the dining area with only bottom cabinets. The cabinets were made of a fantastic knotty-pine. They’d look great refinished and with a gleam to them especially if granite or concrete counter tops replaced the old worn brown one he had. A coffeemaker and a toaster were the only things on the counter except for a stack of mail. The dining area held an old, round, oak four-seater. Like everything else it was in good condition but worn, maybe bought secondhand because it was old enough to pre-date Vance’s ownership and too worn for stuff that had little use if he wasn’t home very often.
Vance had Nick’s approval. I knew that but I’d been trying to ignore it. I also knew that he worried about me a lot and I’d been trying to ignore that too.
What I didn’t need to know was that Vance made him feel like I was safe.
“Nick, his Harley won’t be out there anymore,” I told him softly.
Nick didn’t even try to hide the disappointment on his face. I tried to ignore that too.
I failed.
“The way you two are tonight, was worried about that,” Nick said.
I took a breath and forged ahead. “I won’t be home tonight, can you feed Boo in the morning?”
Nick stared at me a beat, clearly confused at this contradictory information. I didn’t enlighten him.
Then he said, “I hope you know what you’re doin’, Jules.”
“I do,” I replied with fake brightness. “Don’t I always?”
“Yeah,” he said but he shook his head, “you always know what you’re doin’. Just can’t say you’ve always done the right thing.”
“Nick –”
“It may almost always be the right thing for others but it usually wasn’t the right thing for you,” he told me. “Life ain’t worth livin’, Jules, if you don’t take a few risks and I’m not talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save the world. I’m talkin’ about puttin’ your ass on the line to save yourself.”
I didn’t have anything to say to that and I didn’t have a chance to find anything to say. Vance walked up beside us approaching me for the first time that evening (although, I’d seen him talking several times with Nick).
“Time to go,” he said, eyes on me and the look in them sent a shiver up my spine and not in the usual good way.
I nodded.
His eyes cut to Nick and his hand came out. “‘Night, Nick,” he said.
“Vance,” Nick shook his hand and then they broke off, “you two enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Then Nick went out the door.
“I’ll get your jacket,” Vance said and peeled off.
While he was gone I lifted my chin, squared my shoulders, mentally prepared for what was to come and in the middle of that I caught Indy’s eye.
She was standing next to Lee; he had his arm around her shoulders and was talking to Eddie. Indy had her arm around his waist and she was looking at me. She put her head to his chest and smiled encouragingly.
Vance came up, my backpack over one of his shoulders, my jacket over his arm.
“Thanks everybody!” I yelled, they turned, called their goodnights and happy birthdays.
I waved with pretend happiness. I even blew a few kisses (which was not good for a head-crackin’ mamma jamma to do but for once I was amongst friends) and then we were gone.
Chapter Sixteen
You Wanna Talk Now?
We took Sixth Avenue west to I-70, Vance driving fast. Me pressed against him from crotch to shoulders (dress stretched to the max); arms tight around his waist; backpack on my back; Harley roaring between my legs; my hair flying behind me; my legs freezing in the cold. I alternately pressed my cheek into his shoulder or gazed over it, not quite sad, scared or cold enough not to enjoy the ride.
We went into the foothills, passed the end of the city lights, strip malls and suburbs where the skies became a bit clearer and you could see the stars a whole lot better.
He exited I-70 and I memorized our route just because, letting myself pretend that I might take it again one day. It was major thoroughfare left to minor thoroughfare. Minor thoroughfare right to a one lane road. One lane road left to a dirt road. I was guessing we were somewhere between Golden and Evergreen. What I did know was that we were in the middle of nowhere.
Finally he pulled off into a gravel lane and his headlight flashed on a small, one-story log cabin surrounded by pine trees except for a clearing to the north where there was a major outbuilding.
In the drive there was an oldish Ford pickup truck, not ancient but it had at least ten years on it. It was blue, it was dusty and you could tell it was well-used. Next to that was a horse trailer.
Vance stopped the bike, cut the light, I got off and pulled down my skirt. So did he (without the skirt part). We did the whole backpack whirl thing again and then he grabbed my hand and walked me to the house. All this was done in silence.
I was finding it hard to deal with silence. “Do you have horses?” I asked.
“One. Stable two for my neighbors in exchange for them feeding, watering and exercising mine when I’m in town which is most of the time,” he replied in a way that didn’t invite further questions.
He walked right up to the house hand wrapped around mine and opened the unlocked door.
“You don’t lock your house?” I asked, shocked. Vance, security expert, didn’t lock his own house. He was in the middle of nowhere but still.
“Got nothin’ to steal,” he said.
We walked in and he flipped on a light and with one look around I realized he was right. He indeed had nothing to steal.
He dropped my hand, closed the door and walked through the house, leaving me at the door and disappearing down a dark hall. Then a light came on from there.
I looked around more, came forward and took my blazer off, wrapping it around the back of a chair.
It could be cute, his cabin, definitely cozy. The walls were made of well-sealed logs. The floors were wood with some rugs thrown over them, mostly multi-colored and braided, not tatty but not designer-cabin-chic either. The front room was one biggish room incorporating the dining room, living room and kitchen. There was a big stone hearth on the side wall of the living room, a smaller one on the opposite side, next to the dining table.
To the right was the living room. He had a couch, over it thrown a colorful Native American blanket. A coffee table in front, cluttered with books, some opened and placed face down, some stacked even on the floor and under the table. A floor lamp made of a twisted branch was beside the couch, buffalos dancing across the shade. The back of a beat up leather armchair faced the dining room/kitchen area.
And that was it. No television, no stereo, no pictures, nothing.
The kitchen was a u-shape, back and side walls had top and bottom cabinets, a counter delineating it from the dining area with only bottom cabinets. The cabinets were made of a fantastic knotty-pine. They’d look great refinished and with a gleam to them especially if granite or concrete counter tops replaced the old worn brown one he had. A coffeemaker and a toaster were the only things on the counter except for a stack of mail. The dining area held an old, round, oak four-seater. Like everything else it was in good condition but worn, maybe bought secondhand because it was old enough to pre-date Vance’s ownership and too worn for stuff that had little use if he wasn’t home very often.
